El Verdugo
by BFTLandMWandSEK
Summary: The thing about murder is that it's addicting. Once you see how beautiful blood is or how good it feels to be the victor, you just can't stop. Your whole body aches when you're not killing someone. The police should consider it a blessing that I'm only going to kill the bad people in this world.
1. Prologue

**MW: **And thus, I post something without my beta's consent (sorry SEK but I want you to just sit back and relax with this story—don't worry about it!).

Anyways, I'm starting another story. Basically what happened was that one day on my tumblr, I decided to make a post about a story idea I had ("I swear to my dog that one of these days I will write a fic where the tomato gang are serial killers and America and Cuba are the bickering detectives trying to stop them") and people demanded that I wrote it. So I did. I'm going to find time to write this somehow, so expect semiweekly updates. I'm going to do all of the editing myself so the wait time will be shorter. I also hope to get the majority of this story done before the end of summer because once school starts, updates will dwindle down into nothing.

This story is rated M due to some rather triggering things that will be happening not only in this chapter, but in future ones as well. Please read the warnings before each chapter just to avoid any bad situations, okay?

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy the prologue; any kind of feedback is appreciated.

**Story Summary: **The thing about murder is that it's addicting. Once you see how beautiful blood is or how good it feels to be the victor, you just can't stop. Your whole body aches when you're not killing someone. The police should consider it a blessing that I'm only going to kill the bad people in this world.

**Chapter Summary: **Antonio and his siblings clean up a mess.

**Warnings: **Blood, strong language, incest-yaoi.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

**-Prologue-**

* * *

**Three Years Ago . . .**

"Earlier today, Roderich Edelstein was arrested and charged with the suspected murders of twelve young women. If found guilty, the 'Anon' killings will finally come to an end, allowing hundreds of young women to rest at ease. According to the police reports, Edelstein is accused of kidnapping women, typically ones with musical talents. It is stated that he would then torture them and record their screams." The news anchor on the television looked to the side, as if uncomfortable with what she was reporting. "Police then say that he used the recordings to compose music. The police were able to track the number of women he killed by the obituaries of his victims that he paid for anonymously, earning him the name the 'Anon Killer'. Police have yet to release additional information, but chief of police Ivan Braginski says that he is confident that they have found the right guy . . ."

Antonio sighed, looking away from his television and back down at his rag. "Let's hope that we're not him," he joked, scrubbing his rag back and forth on the wood floors. His white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his pants were hiked up to his knees. Antonio was a lean man, though his short curly brown hair seemed so very full. His green eyes seemed to light up as he flashed his cheerful grin to his three younger siblings: Tim, Alice, and Lovino.

Lovino was the one who resembled him the most. He was six years younger than him, a lanky lad fresh out of high school. Like Antonio, he had clear olive skin and gleaming green eyes. Even though his hair was the same shade of mud brown, his was mostly straight. Lovino scowled as he looked down at the floor, muttering about how weak the bleach was.

"Don't be so happy about this," Tim snapped, glaring at Antonio as Alice scooted closer to him. Unlike their brothers, these two were fair skinned and dirty blonds. Tim was rather huge and daunting, quick to flash a judgmental glare or curl his lower lip; while on the other hand, Alice was strong and feminine. Her wavy hair was cut off at her chin, framing her terrified features. Her arms shook as she stared down at the floor in reserved shock. The second Tim slung a warm arm over her shoulder, she croaked a sob and crumbled to the ground in tears.

All three of the boys immediately rushed to her aid, lifting her face out of the mess. As Tim held her, Antonio wiped the mess off her cheeks, hushing her in quiet tones. "Be careful Alice," he said, smiling pleasantly. "You don't want to get blood all over your pretty face now, don't you?"

Alice bit her lip and shook her head. "There's a lot of it, Toni," she whispered. "I-i didn't know that someone could bleed so much." Two silent streams of tears started to fall down her face, clearing away two lines of the blood.

He shrugged. "Neither did I. I guess we both learned something today, didn't we?"

"Antonio." Lovino nudged his shoulder, holding up a clean towel. He looked down shyly as he softly muttered, "She and I can finish cleaning this mess up. You and Tim go deal with the bastard. He's starting to reek."

Antonio ruffled his hair, singing, "Aw Lovi, you're so sweet!" He quickly leaned in and kissed his younger brother sweetly on the lips. Lovino did not back away- he immersed himself deeper in the kiss, sucking and biting. Alice and Tim did not flinch or bat an eyelid. They only parted when they heard Alice sniffle again. "Let's go, Tim!"

Tim patted his sister's shoulder once more before following after Antonio. They heard Lovino mutter weak reassurances as he wiped away the blood on her face. The men's heels clicked on the wood as they moved from the living room and to the kitchen. Tim silently flicked on the lights, illuminating the marble counters and red wood cabinets. A plastic painting tarp was spread on the ground and a limp corpse- still warm -laid on top of it, face down.

Antonio paused at the foot of the corpse.

Tonight had been the last straw. Romulus Vargas had screamed at him one too many times, struck his cheek one too many times, threaten to hit Lovino one too many times, breathed a breath one too many times.

The murder had been nothing more than a flash in Antonio's eyes- Antonio had shoved him back, grabbed the kitchen knife, and stabbed his old guardian in the abdominal. At that moment, Antonio did not feel the guilt or the weight of what he just did. He only felt relief. He no longer had to worry about that monster hurting his little brothers and sister any longer.

And now, as he thought more and more about it, Antonio could not help but to smile. It was over. All of his anxiety never needed to return again. Now, Antonio was free.

Tim stood at the sink and turned on the water. His eyes were narrowed in spite, his thin lips tightly pressed. "You know, Antonio, there was a better way you could have handled that," he said, squirting soap onto his hands. "You didn't have to kill-"

"And let him hurt me anymore?" Antonio bent to the edges of the tarp, folding the sides over the corpse. "Let him hurt Lovi? Let him hurt Alice? You-"

"He can't hurt me or have you forgotten?" Antonio shook his head. He hasn't forgotten. How could he forget? Ever since they were young, the siblings knew that there was something wrong with Tim. He would spend the whole day without realizing that he had a bleeding cut or a deepening bruise. He would glare up at Romulus and say with the utmost truth that the burns didn't hurt. Tim couldn't feel pain. He never has and he never will.

Tim turned the water off and testily snatched the towel off the counter. "What about Feli?" He asked. "Do you think he'll be happy when he finds out that his papa is dead? What do you think he'll do when he finds out? I'm sure as hell he wouldn't congratulate us."

"I did it for all of our benefit, even Feli's. Once he realizes that, he'll understand." Antonio looked up from his work and saw the hate and disappointed in Tim's visage. It broke his smile and created a sinking feeling in his chest. Antonio tucked the folds closer to the corpse, sighing, "But if you insist, we'll keep this a secret from him."

The line of the blond's lips seemed to grow even tighter. "Good."

They were silent for a long moment.

Somehow, Lovino was able to make Alice laugh.

"Go get the ski cables from the garage," Tim ordered, stuffing his hands into his jeans. He stalked past Antonio, roughly banging into his shoulder in the process. "I'll go get the shovels."

Like a lost puppy, Antonio followed Tim into the garage. They collected their supplies in silence, shivering in from the chill air of the garage. Once back in the kitchen, Antonio and Tim bound the tarp around the corpse with the cables. Ten they carried it outside onto the grass in the backyard. It was a pleasant night outside, save for a little cold wind. There was a new moon and clouds drifted over the stars. The brothers rolled up their sleeves and quickly set to work digging a grave.

They were quiet as they digged- they did not want to alert their neighbors. Blisters bore their way into the skin of their hands and dirt fought its way into their shoes. Huffing and puffing, they dug deeper and deeper into the ground until they had a grave four feet deep. Antonio was the first to stop, sticking his shovel into the ground and wiping his sleeve over his brow. "We've been at it for hours," he panted. "I think its deep enough."

Tim, however, continued to stab the blade of his tool into the dirt. "Well if you want someone finding him here . . ."

Antonio looked at the ground for a moment, pondering over their situation. He wiped his hand down his shirt. "We can put something over it," he suggested. "I mean, I was thinking about planting a tomato plant here anyways."

The other stopped digging. He switched his condescending look between the ground and the wrapped up corpse. Tim's thin lips were pursed as he thought about his situation. After a long moment, he finally spoke. "Fine, but on one condition."

"And that is?"

He shot him one last glare, his green eyes blazing. "Promise me that you'll never do _this_ again. Promise me, Antonio."

Antonio stared at him for a long moment before cracking a cheerful smile. He place one hand over his heart and another was held up in the air. "I promise."

* * *

**MW: **And thus, the prologue is over. I basically just had to set up a little background on our four siblings. I know that it's a bit fuzzy at some parts, but it'll all be explained in due course.

I don't know when the next update will be. I'm leaving for a trip on the 16th and wouldn't be back until July. I plan on updating FB before I go and WAS is on a hiatus until my trip is over. If any of you people want to get your fix on my writing between updates, go read "Within Ash and Snow" because I have so many things planned for it, but no one's reading it. *Shameful self-promoting*

Anyways, thanks for reading! Feedback will be very appreciated!

**Notes**

"El Verdugo" Spanish for "The Executioner".

**Next Chapter: **Three years later.

**Thank you all for reading!**


	2. One More Victim

**Warnings: **Strong language, incest/yaoi, violence, mentions of abuse, death, and blood

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Well, the idea's mine, but nothing.

* * *

**-Part 1-**

**One More Victim**

* * *

Antonio considered himself to be a good teacher. He put countless hours into planning lessons and projects for his sweet third grade class. He always did his best to see the best in people. He dedicated himself to the labor of nurturing the pure minds of the generation of tomorrow.

So why did he get his pink slip?

Antonio rubbed his eyes, the glare of the laptop screen growing more and more painful by the minute. It would probably be better for his sight if he turned on the light, but it felt like his legs could not move from his spot on the stool at the island in the kitchen. From the window, a gray and dim light filtered across the counter and spilt onto the wood floors. A few spots on the marble counters gleamed in the dull light, making the chestnut cabinets appear ebony. Outside, the April showers left a wet world for him- puddles on the ground and dripping leaves on the trees.

He closed his eyes to the sight. Budget cuts, the principal had told him. It wasn't necessary to have so many third grade classes anymore. Antonio was young and could find a new job easily before the next school year. He should take his pink slip with pride.

Antonio bit his lip. Kids needed a nurturing, _personal_ environment to grow up properly. They could cut back in a few other places in the budget. This was Antonio's first job and most people wanted someone with more experience. The economy was at an all-time low and jobs were impossible for anyone to find. Antonio was definitely not going to take his pink slip with pride, but rather with animosity.

Even now he could feel the anger burn under his skin. Worse of all, he could feel his finger twitch. There it was: the Urge.

The Urge was an inching that would come and go as it pleased with no regard to how many times Antonio silently prayed for it to. From the moment he got his pink slip today, the Urge appeared and refused to leave. He could feel it crawling up his skin and infecting his brain—whispering how he needed to feel blood on his hands again, enticing him to smell the crimson liquid in the air.

Antonio took a long breath of air. No, not now. He promised Tim that he would not cause any more trouble for the family. Feliciano was still trying to figure out what evil conspiracy kidnapped his papa and kept him hostage for years. No one has yet to suspect was lied beneath Antonio's tomato plants and he intended on keeping it that way.

Finding his control once again, Antonio slowly opened his eyes. Yes, calm. Be calm. For Lovi. For Alice. For Tim. For his family. He could not risk losing what he was so lucky to have: a family.

Once upon a time, Antonio's family only considered of his lived his mother, a beautiful woman named Carmen Fernandez Carriedo. Although they were poor, they were very happy together and, until Antonio was four, he never had a worry in the world. Then his mother married a handsome man named Romulus Vargas. At first, Antonio liked him. Romulus was strong and he had a nice smile. He had a stable job and a nice house. But Romulus would hit Antonio whenever Antonio was bad.

Then whenever he was frustrated.

Or annoyed.

Or bored.

Bruises and cuts were soon an everyday accessory for Antonio. Antonio knew that his mother saw them, but she never commented. She would only kiss his cheek and whisper the "Our Father" under her breath.

When Antonio was six, Carmen gave birth to another child. When Antonio first held his little Lovi in his arms, he felt instant love. Such a small, precious being. There would be no way he would allow his little Lovi to ever feel the pain of constant beatings.

But, as Antonio would say, everything quickly started to change. When Carmen was pregnant with her third child two years later, Romulus's brother died in a car accident. His wife had left him years ago, leaving Romulus to care for his children- Tim and Alice. Romulus grew more violent then. He didn't want to have to deal with extra mouths to feed, especially from someone like his 'selfish' brother. Antonio quickly showed his new, blond siblings the best places to hide in the house.

He liked them. Tim, a year younger than him, was tougher than nails and more protective than a lion. Whenever Romulus kicked him or extinguished his cigarettes into his arms, Tim would stare at him blankly. Alice helped him care for toddler Lovino, cooing to him softly like the loving sister she was. But when Romulus pulled on her hair and call her a whore, Alice would ball up her fist and cry loudly. That only made Romulus hurt her even more. Many times, the siblings would gather in Antonio's room at night. He would do his best to hold them in his arms as they all fell asleep, kissing their foreheads and whispering the "Our Father".

Carmen died when Antonio was nine. It was during child birth to her youngest son- Feliciano. For a while, Antonio was sure that things were going only going to get worse. Anger over the death of his wife made Romulus even more violent. Antonio couldn't count the number of times he had to pull six year old Lovino away from his father and take the blows for him. How many times items like broken bottles and broken irons came crashing down on his back.

In a way, things did get better. As Feliciano grew older, it became apparent how similar he looked to Romulus. As Antonio believed, vanity saved Feliciano from so much pain. When Romulus looked at little Feliciano, he saw himself. The same auburn hair, brown eyes, and fair skin. How could he hurt someone who was his copy?

The youngest of the Vargas children was treated like a king. He got his own room, not the attic space Alice, Tim, Antonio, and Lovino shared. He was given all the kindest and love a father could give. Romulus signed him up for soccer and art- two activities that he excelled at. It didn't matter that Feliciano was a little slow in the head- in Romulus's eyes, he was perfect.

But for some reason, one Antonio didn't understand, Feliciano was blind to them. His brown eyes didn't acknowledge the bruises on his siblings' faces. He never questioned why they went to public school while he attended private. He was deaf to the evening screams and cries. In the visage of the smiling boy, no pain would ever be seen. Tim and Lovino seemed to resent him for it and Antonio admitted that he did a little to. But all four of them still loved Feliciano and they could never even dream of hating him for it.

And now, despite all of the things he has gone through—all of the things he's done for his family- he was still going to lose his job. What kind of karma was that? Those children _needed _Antonio as much as the Urge needed blood. He tried to convince the school that he was needed, but no one would listen to them. It was not like he could simply say that he deserved the job because the scars on his body were inflicted by his step-father.

From his perch in the kitchen, Antonio could hear the lock on the front door click open. "Hey, idiots! I'm home!" Antonio tensed, nervously wringing his fingers together. Out of every member of his family, Lovino was the last person Antonio wanted to tell his news to first. He knew that if it was Alice, she could allay his nerves and reassure him for the better. If it was Tim, then only a concise explanation would be needed. But Lovino . . .

The kitchen lights flickered on. Lovino stuck his around through the doorway. He was dripping wet in a yellow rain jacket and soaked jeans. "Hey idiot! Are you trying to blind yourself?" Lovino demanded harshly. Antonio placed his face in his hands. Lovino was something special.

The college student groaned, placing his bag on the floor as he marched over to the fridge. His sneakers left a trail of water and mud behind him. "Jesus Christ, Antonio- you didn't even saying anything when I walked in," He complained as he angrily yanked the door open. He ignored his brother's sulk. "Not that I care or anything, but seriously- what the fuck?" Lovino slammed a gallon of milk on the counter. "If you're going to ignore me, bastard, then at least tell me why I fucking deserve it."

Lovino paused. Antonio did not unshield his face, even when he heard Lovino shift uncomfortably on his feet. "Is something wrong, bastard?" He asked, still harsh but more quiet.

He scowled when Antonio lowered his hands, revealing a bright- unconvincing -smile. "You haven't given me my kiss yet," Antonio sang. He had to resist chuckling when Lovino huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"No way in hell, bastard."

Antonio pouted, ignoring the twitching in his finger. "Aw, please Lovi?"

Lovino looked down, his dark brown bangs shielding his green eyes from view. He tightened his hands into fists. "Fine," he grumbled, marching over to his brother. "But I'm only doing this because I want to, not because I feel sorry for you or anything, idiot." Lovino quickly leaned in and kissed Antonio on the lips. It was short and sweet, but it made Antonio feel better.

It made his finger stop twitching.

Lovino pulled away, looking down at the marble counter as he returned to his milk. "Happy yet?"

Antonio's smile grew. "Yup!" He chirped. He closed his laptop with a satisfying click. "So how was class, Lovi? Anything exciting?"

Lovino shrugged. "Nothing really, but I have another damn essay due next week," he said, unscrewing the cap. "Business isn't really the most exciting of subjects."

"Then why do you do it again?"

He sighed, folding his arms over his chest. "You ask me this every freaking day, idiot," he muttered, sending him a side glare. He held it for a second longer before rolling his eyes, saying, "You gotta be an asshole to be good at business and face it, I'm an asshole."

Antonio pouted. "You're not an asshole, Lovi," he whined. "You're sweet and loving and-"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever the hell you say." They were silent for a long moment, the only sound being the creaks of the old house and the rain pelting the window. Lovino took a long chug of milk straight from the container, sighing in satisfaction when he was done. "So what happened at school today?" Lovino asked, wiping his sleeve over his mouth. "How are the art projects coming along?"

Antonio grimaced. "Oh, it's going fine."

"Well that was a fucking lie if I ever saw one." Lovino pressed his lips for a moment before releasing another long sigh. "Antonio, what happened?" He asked.

Antonio smiled shakingly. "Nothing happened, Lovi-"

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious-"

"Bullshit of the first degree." Lovino leaned over the counter, reaching his arm over to touch Antonio's arm. "Antonio. . ." Said man flinched. Lovino's voice was heavy, more worried than what he would like when he said, "Idiot, you can tell me anything, you know that. What happened?"

Antonio bit his lip. "You promise not to be mad at me, Lovi?" When he nodded, the man had no choice but to relent. "I got my pink slip today," Antonio said quietly. Lovino retracted his hand. "I'm out of a job."

They were silent for a long moment. Water dripped from Lovino's hair, falling with loud _plops! _to the ground. He nervously looked down at his feet, muttering something about a towel. The twitching returned to Antonio's fingers. This time, Antonio was sure a kiss, even one from Lovi, would be able to banish it away. He _desperately_ needed to see blood. To smell it. To feel it.

Oh how he _needed _it.

It took Antonio a second to realize that Lovino was speaking. " . . . the bastard's damned fault for firing you," he was saying, arms crossed and glare shooting out the window. "They're missing out on the best fucking teacher in the state. Tch, idiot."

Antonio's gaped at him. "So you're not angry at me?"

Lovino threw his hands up in the air. "Why the hell should I be?" he demanded. "It's not your fucking fault those idiots are firing you!"

The elder smiled. Lovino was right. It wasn't his fault that he was fired. The principal should be sorry for firing him. He wasn't at fault, they were. He hopped off of his stool and walked around the counter to his brother, saying, "Thanks Lovi." He wrapped his arms around him, holding the objecting man in a strong embrace. "Say, what do you think we should eat for dinner tonight?"

"How the hell should I know?" Lovino demanded, facing a deep shade of red. "Alice does all of the fucking cooking around here, remember? And would you get your fucking hands off of me already?"

Antonio's spirits plummeted to the ground. He took an unsteady breath, holding him even closer to his chest. That was right: he had to tell Tim and Alice what happened. The twitching in his finger- the Urge -intensified. If he closed his eyes, he could already smell the blood. After all, wasn't it in this very kitchen that he first murdered Romulus? Were they not standing a mere few feet away from the very spot where Alice and Lovino had bleached the blood stains out of the wood?

"What the fuck did I just say?" Lovino shouted again. "Get your arms off of me, Antonio!"

Antonio laughed, pulling away at last. "You're so cute, Lovi," he said happily. "Though . . ." He looked down at the mud and water spoiled floor, clicking his tongue in distaste. "You didn't have to drag in so much mud."

"Well don't expect me to clean it up!" Lovino snapped, a vein popping in his forehead. "You know how much I suck at cleaning! _I'm _going to change out of these damn clothes." He dashed off, pounding his feet as he climbed the stairs to his room. Antonio tried to yell at him to take off his shoes before trekking across the carpet, but he only received a "Fuck you" in reply.

He smiled softly to himself. Lovino was quite a handful. He got on his nerves a lot, but that was all part of his charm. Antonio liked how Lovino always spoke his mind, even if it necessarily wasn't the nicest of things to say. And even though his words were often acrid, Antonio knew that Lovino really was a sweet boy, he just didn't know how to express himself properly.

Affectionately shaking his head, Antonio rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt and got to work. He attacked the wood floors with a bottle of 409, wiping up the mud and water with ease. The white carpet upstairs, however, required a bit more work. For now, Antonio simply sprayed dirt remover and told himself that he'll scrub it out later. After all, no job meant that he had all the free time in the world.

The thought made not only his stomach sick, but his finger twitch.

Just as he was throwing away the paper towels in the garbage, the front door was slammed open and shut again. "Antonio!" A familiar voice called out. There was a quiver in her voice—panic. His sister was scared.

A shot of panic jolted through his veins and he immediately ran to the foyer. "Alice!" Antonio shouted, feet sliding as he made the sharp corner through the doorway. He nearly knocked into her. Water made her short blond hair look like string as it hung limply down her head. Alice's green eyes were wide as she wiped some of the water from her pale face. She was still dressed in her waitress uniform, a _Jones' Steak House _name tag on her breast. Antonio grabbed her shoulders, holding the panting woman upright. "Alice, what's wrong?" He demanded. "Why are you-"

"S-some guy followed me home," she said quickly, trying but failing to keep her voice steady. "The moment I left the restaurant too! I threw my umbrella at him, but he just kept coming and my phone's out of battery and-"

Antonio pulled her into a tight hug, hushing her as he petted her hair. "Shhh, it's alright," he cooed softly. He glanced up and saw Lovino standing at the top of the staircase, his eyes wide and arms shaking. Too many memories were coming back to him, ones that should remained buried. Antonio motioned for him to keep quiet as he asked, "Is the man still outside, Alice?"

She gulped and nodded. "He followed me the whole way home," she said numbly. "Antonio . . ."

He pulled away, only to lean in and kiss her forehead. He wiped her silent- frightened -tears away with his thumb, saying, "Alice, I want you to go upstairs with Lovino. I'm going to take care of this. Don't come down until I tell you to, alright?" She stared at him with a gaping mouth. Antonio nearly shook her. "Promise?"

Her voice was so soft, like a whisper. "I promise."

_Knock! Knock!_

All three of them jumped. Alice would have screamed, but Antonio was quick to cover her mouth. Placing a finger over his lips, he silently called for her to stay quiet. Alice, quivering under his hand, nodded before turning and running up the stairs. Lovino caught her at the top and started to lead her away. His thin lips were drawn into a tight frown as he gave his elder brother a thumb's up. Everything would be fine.

Antonio rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. A part of him highly doubted that the person outside his door was the man, but he had to make sure. Alice was always a panicky girl. She was clumsy and whenever she dropped something or made too much noise, Romulus would make her his next victim. Now, years later, anything and everything made her scared half to death. Anyone would be on the edge if there was a time where everything you did would result in a beating.

Antonio peeked through the peep hole, expecting to see the brown head of Feliciano, panicking about how he lost his key again. Instead, he saw the drawn face of a large man. He was huddled into a navy blue coat, his blue eyes glaring at the door from behind a pair of glasses. A mat of blond hair laid on his head, sticking out from beneath a navy blue hood. Antonio took a step back. So it wasn't Feliciano.

He placed his hand on the doorknob and hesitated. If this guy was trouble, what should he do? Antonio did not know a lot of self-defense and the man at the door was twice his size. He cracked a small smile. The man was probably lost and needed some directions. He would be no problem. Antonio turned the knob. And if he was . . .

Well, at least the twitching hasn't gone away yet.

"Hello there," Antonio greeted, swinging the door wide open. But despite his pleasantries, the man's drawn- peeved -face did not loosen. Antonio thought it best to ignore that and continue with his facade. "Can I help you?"

The man pressed his lips as he stepped back and pointed behind him. "My car battery is out," he muttered. "I was wondering if I could use your phone."

Antonio knitted his brows. "Yeah sure, but . . ." He took a step outside, peeking over the man's shoulder. The only car on the suburban street was his neighbors. "Where did you park?"

"Down the street," the man said quickly. Antonio gave him as odd look as he scratched his arm. "You're the first person to open the door for me," the man confessed. "I promise that it'll be quick."

Antonio hesitated. He's heard of stories like this. A man comes to your house, saying something about needing help with a car and gives a reason to be let inside. Then, while your back is turn, he rams a knife into you back and steals you blind. Every bit of common sense in Antonio's body was screaming, imploring for him to slam the door in the man's face, but he ignored it. Instead, he placed a hand over his twitching finger, gracing the man with a blithe smile. "Of course." He stepped aside, letting the man come inside his house. "The phone's right in the kitchen there," he said.

The man muttered a "thank you" and gave him the smallest of grateful smiles as he walked inside. Antonio scrutinized the way he scrapped his muddy shoes over the doormat and how, once inside, he stripped off his navy blue jacket. Antonio softly closed the door behind him, feeling a coat of dread paint his being. Something did not feel right about this guy. Or, more probable, something suddenly was not right in Antonio. Simply leaning against the front door was causing dark shades of red to flash across his eyes.

The twitching in his finger increased until his whole arm was shaking. Antonio held his arm down, gritting his teeth painfully. What the hell was wrong with him? It was like his whole body was on fire. He squeezed his eyes shut, commanding his body to calm down. The Urge was not wanted, he did not need the Urge right now. Yet the Urge covered his skin in a slick film. It was cold, frigid to the point where the ice petrified his arm. The red crept to the edges of his vision, framing his world like a picture. For some reason, the Urge was ridding Antonio of his doubt, making him feel so much calmer. Opening his eyes slowly, he took a steady breath.

Antonio could hear the man in his kitchen, could see him through the doorway. He was paying him no heed, idly looking at the receiver of his house phone. Antonio's mouth formed a tight line as he kicked off the wall and walked silently into the kitchen. "Go ahead and use it," he said monotonously, taking a seat on the stool at the counter. "I don't mind."

The man looked up at him, his eyes shining with guilt. "Thanks."

For a moment, Antonio simply watched him punch the number with his large fingers. The brunette twirled a finger in his hair as he slid off of his stool again, asking, "So, can I know what your name is-

"Berwald Oxenstierna," the man replied, his words clipping the end of Antonio's.

Slowly and gracefully, like a lion circling his prey, Antonio crept around the counter, sliding his hand along the marble. "Berwald, huh?" He asked. "Can I have an I.D. to go with that?"

Berwald grimaced, placing the phone to his ear. Antonio could tell that his words- slippery like slime -were leaving a shiver on the blonde's back. "Left it in the car."

Antonio nodded, pretending to accept his excuse. "That's rather unfortunate," he said, sliding his hand up the side of the wood knife block. He wrapped his hand around one of the knife handles, the corners of his mouth stretching into a crude grin.

Berwald's eyes went wide before he quickly placed the phone back in the receiver. How obviously was he trying to appear cool and competent. "Actually, I think my phone's in my car," he said suddenly. "Thanks for letting me-"

Antonio made a noise that was a mixture of a sigh and a chuckle. "Are you sure? You're welcome to use the phone, Berwald Oxenstierna."

He shook his head, taking a step back. "No, it's fine. You know how phone bills are and-"

"Are you so sure?" Antonio asked. For every step Berwald stumbled back, he took two forward. Soon enough, he was taking a steak knife out of the block, holding it with his limp arm. "It'll be a shame if you were left outside in the rain, all by yourself."

Berwald stumbled back into a chair at the kitchen table. He placed his hand on the back to brace himself as he searched frantically for an escape route. His eyes rested on the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. Without another word, he leaped towards his salvation, stretching a hand to the handle.

The next thing Antonio knew, he was right in front of Berwald. He wasn't sure how he got there or what he was hoping to achieve. But the second he felt something warm and sticky coat his hand, he realized what he had done.

The Urge- yes, the Urge had driven him to ram his knife into Berwald's abdominal.

Antonio stood still for a moment, feeling the blood drip all over his hands and splatter onto the wood floor. Berwald leaned into him, choking and gasping for air. He weakly clawed at his attackers back, ignoring his glasses when they slipped off of his face. Antonio waited for him to stop breathing, twisting the blade inside of his stomach.

The rain pelted the glass door.

The dull light continued to flood the room.

Berwald stopped moving.

Antonio sighed, letting him slide down his body and onto the floor. He looked down at the corpse, amazed to see all of the red. Red spilling from his stomach, red pooling on the floor, red drowning his face. The beautiful color even coated Antonio's hands and smeared down the front of his shirt. He took a deep breath.

That felt good. It was like all of the weight on his shoulders was finally alleviated. Antonio could move freely again. He felt like a king who finally quelled a revolution. He was the master, he was the ultimatum, he was-

There was a scream.

"What the hell?"

Antonio jerked his head, seeing both Lovino and Alice at the doorway. His sister held her hands over her mouth, looking down at the bloody corpse with horrified eyes. Lovino's eyes were equally wide as he abhorred the scene, but his hands were down at his side, shaking excessively. Antonio frowned, saying, "I told you two to stay upstairs."

"We heard noises," Lovino whispered, his mouth barely moving. He took a hesitant step towards his brother. When his fragile foot landed safely, Lovino forgot his caution and dashed to his brother's side. He ran smack into Antonio's chest, grabbing his shoulder as he shouted, "What the hell were you thinking? You just can't kill someone!"

Antonio scowled. He wrapped his bloodied hands around Lovino's wrists, squeezing them until he heard his brother gasp and grind his teeth in pain. "Yes I can," he said calmly. Calmly, but darkly.'

Lovino shook his head, trying to yank his wrists free. But Antonio's grasp was iron and he was not going anywhere. "No you can't!" He yelled. "Unless . . ." He stopped himself.

The elder's frown grew more prominent. He tightened his grip, smirking ever so slightly when he heard a cry of pain. "Unless what?"

Lovino squeezed his eyes shut. "You should have called me down, asshole!" Lovino screamed. Antonio's smirk faded away as he loosened his grip. Lovino slipped his wrists away and cradled his hands to his chest. "You should have let me help you," he said defeatedly. "Dumbass, I would have helped you if you just called. I want to defend this family too."

Antonio stared at him for a second, loss for words. Then, very carefully, he reached down and cupped his brother's cheeks in his hands. "I'm sorry, Lovi," he said. He leaned in and ardently kissed his lips. Alice watched in silence as they nibbled at each other, sucking and licking. When he finally pulled away, Antonio had a smile on his face. "You can help me next time, I promise."

"Next time?" Both of the men flinched when Alice, wide-eyed with messy hair, stepped forward, shrieking, "You mean that you're going to kill again?"

Antonio nodded. "Well yeah, maybe- only if they hurt you like this guy did."

"Hurt me?" Alice placed a hand over her chest, yelling, "That wasn't the man who was following me!"

As Lovino looked back down at the corpse, swearing under his breath, Antonio shook his head. "Well I thought he was, so it doesn't matter," he snapped back harshly. Alice flinched. "I swore to myself that I will never let any harm come to my family and if I thought that this guy was threatening us then he was."

She shook her head, pointing to the corpse. "You just can't murder someone! They'll find out, Antonio!"

He threw his hands up into the air. "Then hide the body, Alice!" He said exasperatedly. "You too Lovino, help her clean up!" Antonio started to march out of the kitchen, but a simple look down at himself reminded him of the blood on his hands, shirt, and shoes. He sighed, leaning over and pulling the shirt over his head.

"What the hell are you doing?" Lovino demanded, his cheeks turning a dark shade of red. Not the red that Antonio craved, but a pigment of embarrassment. Even Alice's face was that face, though she was leaning against a wall, muttering something about yelling and being frightened.

He wiped his hands with the shirt, kicking off his shoes while he was at it. "I can't track blood around the house or else Tim will kill me." He grimaced, looking between the bloodied floor and the cooling corpse. "Yeah, we need to clean up before he gets home."

Alice broke from her state of shock. She turned around, facing Antonio with an angered face. "We're _not_ keeping this a secret from him," she snapped.

Antonio shot her a sharp, almost betrayed look. "I never said that we were," he told her firmly. "It's just- You know how stingy Tim gets when it comes to cleaning, don't you?"

She sighed in understanding. "Fine then. Lovino and I will clean up down here then. You . . ." She watched him wrap his shoes with the red and white shirt. "You go upstairs and take a shower."

Antonio smiled at her warmly. "Thanks, Alice. I promise I wouldn't be long." When she strained her mouth to return the visage, he turned around and walked away, satisfied. He held his articles in his arms as he climbed the stairs to his bathroom. As he went, he could hear his siblings talk.

"You do realize that I freaking suck at cleaning, right?" He heard Lovino asked.

Alice sighed. "I know, but Tim coming home at six and I still have to get dinner . . ."

"Hey, is something wrong?"

". . . It's nothing. Can you help me carry him to the basement?"

Antonio reached his room soon enough. Since he was the oldest, he slept in the master bedroom, complete with his own closet and bathroom. It was one of those arrangements that he and his siblings never spoke about, it just sort of happened. Like Lovino slept in the small room down the hall, occasionally sharing it with Feliciano when he visited from boarding school. Alice slept in the old bedroom that they shared when they were younger. It was large, though she had to share closet space with Tim. Tim could sleep in the old office if he wanted to- everyone offered to help pay for the renovation -but he insisted on taking the couch in the living room. No one knew why.

Anyways, Antonio placed his bloodied clothes, his long black slacks as well, in his waste basket, promising himself to take care of it later. Naked, he dragged his feet to the white tile bathroom and stepped into the shower stall. Hot water rained down upon him, filling the air with white steam. The water rinsed away the blood, causing it to drip down his skin, swirling around the drain before disappearing completely. He closed his eyes, letting the water consume him.

Whenever he watched a television crime show or movie, there were always two kinds of murders. There were the average Joe who cried in the confession room about his regret, about how it was the only option left. Then there was the Mad Hatter, the guy who crazily insisted that what he did needed no judgment. He knew that what he did was wrong, yet he continued to believe that he was above the law, that he was next to God. Antonio felt as though he didn't fit either of those categories. He wasn't sure if what he did was wrong or right, but it was justified. He wasn't the Average Joe and he wasn't the Mad Hatter. He was his own category of murder.

He liked that idea.

Soon enough, his fingers turned into prunes and he knew that he had to step out of the shower. Antonio turned off the water and wrapped a towel around himself. Now that the evidence was off of him, he had to get the evidence polluting his house.

Antonio pulled on a pair of jeans and an old ratty t-shirt before going to help Alice and Lovino. When he stepped into the kitchen, he was amazed to see that the corpse was gone, Lovino was scrubbing the blood off of the floor and glass door, and Alice was at the stove making dinner. Antonio could not help but to whistle impressively. "Wow, you guys work quick," he said, leaning against the wall. "You didn't leave me anything to do."

As Lovino scowled and muttered vulgarities, Alice smiled at him quickly before returning to her task of chopping the tomatoes for dinner. "We left you the mud spots upstairs if you really want to help," she told him cheerfully.

He pouted for a moment, trying to sway her verdict, but Alice only continued to smile and prepare her food. Antonio sighed, stepping into the kitchen, asking, "What are you making for dinner, Alice?"

"Pasta with a meat sauce."

"Meat sauce?" Antonio slid onto his stool, unplugging his laptop and wrapping-up the cord. "But no one's gone shopping in a week. When did you get the ingredients?" Alice only smiled and gave a light shrug. Antonio knitted his brows, abhorring the big pot on the stove. "Don't tell me you . . ."

Lovino started gagging. "Jesus-Fucking-Christ, Antonio! Can you at least _try _not to make me lose my appetite?" He demanded, throwing his rag on the floor. He rose to his knees, placing his fist on his hips as he hotly explained, "Alice already dumped the body somewhere, dumbass. _Then _she went to the freaking store."

Antonio breathed an obvious sigh of relief. Alice looked at him, a puzzled look printed on her face. "What were you worried-"

He waved his hands in the air, chuckling nervously. "Nothing, nothing. Just forget that I said anything. Though-" All blithe left his face as he suddenly regarded her with cold eyes. "-You did hide the body in a good place, didn't you?"

Alice copied his visage, narrowing her green eyes at him. It was plain to both of the men that she did not like being seconded guessed. "I hid it in a safe spot," she told him lowly. "Even if they do find it, they'll never be able to trace it back to us."

They heard the front door swing open. "Who forgot to lock the front door again?" Tim called, the flick his umbrella sounding after him. Antonio held a hand up to his siblings—wait here -before going to greet him. Tim worked at the local ice rink, teaching hockey to the little kids and teens. He was still wearing his black and red sweats when he tore off his jacket, kicking his wet sneakers off of his feet. Antonio had just enough time to see him scruff the water out of his hair, causing it to stick straight up before having to greet him.

"Sorry Timmy," he said casually, sending his brother a grand smile. "I was in a bit of a hurry."

Tim smirked as he huffed under his breath. "Of course. You can be so reckless sometimes, Antonio," he told him, double the floor for any water or mud he might has tracked in. Still, through all of his scolding, there was a soothing tone of cheerfulness in his voice. His lessons must have gone well today. "Where Alice and Lovino?"

Antonio leaned against the wall, jerking his head back to the kitchen. "In there. Alice's making pasta for dinner."

Tim nodded, walking past him and into the kitchen, saying, "What? Is Feliciano coming home for . . ." He trailed off. Antonio stood in the hall, waiting patiently as an awkward silence settled over the house. He heard Alice place her knife on the cutting board and Lovino mutter a swear. After what felt like a long while, Tim spoke. "What are you cleaning up, Lovi?" He asked, sounding ready to fall over the edge.

Antonio could hear Lovino gulp. Whenever Tim used that nickname, it meant that he was just about ready to explode. "Blood," Lovino said. "It's not as bad as it looks."

Tim was quiet for a moment. Then, he pleaded, "Please tell me Alice is on her period." The girl gave an offended huff. "Please tell me no one got hurt."

"Tim, you need to ask Antonio what happened."

Antonio stood straight, tugging the wrinkles out of his shirt. Finally, the moment of truth. Tim turned on his heel and marched back into the hall. He did not spare Antonio a glance when he roughly grabbed his wrist and pulled him along. Tim took him into the middle of the living room- a large space with a black coffee table surrounded by a brown, L-shaped couch. It faced a television that sat on a stand. It was not new, but it certainly was not old or outdated. The walls of the living room were white, though they were decorated with assorted pictures of all different sizes. Pictures of the family framed in silver or brown or black.

Tim shoved him onto the coach, knocking his shins into the coffee table in the process . Antonio did not even blink. He merely let himself be pushed around, casually looking up at him as his younger brother started pacing.

Convincing Alice and Lovino that the murder was justified had been easy. Antonio had an authority over them. If he told them that the world was flat, they would eventually accept it as truth. Even if someone showed them a globe or an image from space, the idea of a flat world would never disappear. If Antonio said it was a fact, then no manner of science could disprove it.

But with Tim, things were different. Tim was only his younger by a year and he never gave in to any of Romulus's abuse. He was more solid than Alice and Lovino were. He was the one voice that consistently opposed Antonio, trying to make him see another light. Antonio never understood why he always did that, but it did not matter much to him. Tim always saw the black when Antonio needed him to see the white.

This time, Antonio was determined to make Tim forget that there even was a black.

Tim paused in front of him, running a hand through his hair. "Antonio, who did you hurt?" he asked irritably.

Antonio stared up at him. "Who said that I hurt anyone-"

"I'm not blind, Antonio!" He yelled. He extended a hand towards the kitchen, unmercifully shouting, "That was a lot of blood back there and the only time I've seen so much was-"

"When we killed Romulus," Antonio finished calmly. He crossed his hands over his chest, smirking as if to challenge him. I have control of all of this, Tim. Don't try to go against me.

Tim crinkled his nose and looked down at him in disgust. "We killed Romulus? You were the one who stabbed him."

"And you helped me burry-"

"To keep this family safe!" Tim screamed.

Antonio continued to speak evenly, keeping his face cool and collective. "If you want to keep my family safe, then keep your voice down. We don't want the neighbors to hear, do we?"

Tim paused. His sweat mixed with the water still in his hair, falling down the side of his white face. He was paler than usual, like he was truly disturbed of the man he was looking at. "Aren't you bugged at all by this?" He asked quietly. "You _killed _a man, Antonio! You _murdered _him."

"He followed Alice home and tried to enter the house." Antonio sunk a little in the couch crossing his legs comfortably. "Probably to rob us. It was dangerous so I did what I thought was necessary."

Tim growled, "You should have called the police."

"I handled the situation just fine."

"By murdering the poor guy?"

Antonio frowned. He hated having to repeating himself. "Like I said, it was necessary."

"Necessary my ass!" Tim raised his hand, ready to strike him. He didn't flinch, only continued to glare up at his brother. If Tim was going to hit him, then he better do it now. The blond, however, stopped himself. He held his hand up in the air for a moment longer before finally releasing a long sigh. He lowered himself onto the coffee table, placing his elbows on his legs and his face in his hands. Tim muttered incoherently to himself, rubbing his temples. "Antonio . . ." He sounded defeated, something the elder brother smiled about. "Don't you remember your promise?"

The smile from his face. He couldn't help but to sound defeated when he nodded, saying, "Of course I do."

"Then why did you break it?"

"Because I had to-"

Tim looked up, snapping, "I want the truth, Antonio!" Tim gaped at him, as if he was unsure why he raised his voice so sharply. He waited for Antonio to give him an answer, but none came. He took a timorous breath, regaining his words to speak. "I have a feeling that you _wanted _to kill him, Antonio. Something tells me that you didn't learn the first time around."

His voice was emotionless. "There was something to learn?"

Tim's boney hands turned into tight fists, his knuckles white from pressure. "You . . ." He took a deep breath. "You _want _to do this?"

Antonio looked down. Did he? It was the Urge that drove him into picking up that knife. It was the Urge's whose arms were around his shoulders, whispering temptations into his ears. Surely, _he _wasn't the one who wanted this. And surely his family would understand that. Antonio shook his head, wringing his fingers together. Luckily, he was no longer twitching. "It wasn't me, Tim," he said quietly. "There's . . . there's like this thing in my head that wants me to do this. It's been there for years, but today it just wouldn't shut up, not after what happened-"

"What happened?" Tim asked quickly. His eyes were wide and Antonio could see his mind swimming with every worse possible solution.

Antonio placed his hands over his ears, feeling the shame come over him. "I got my pink slip today," he admitted at last. "They fired me."

Tim was quiet for a moment. Gently, very gently, he placed his hand on Antonio's shoulders. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Antonio shook his head. He could still smell the blood on his hands. It was such a bitter, yet sweet taste that it made tears swell in his eyes. They landed thickly on his lap, sending shocks and shudders through Antonio's body. A hollow chuckle left his lips. "I just couldn't stop it, Tim," he said hollowly, a chuckle leaving his lips. "He was just ripe for the picking and he was just begging to be killed."

Antonio could feel his brother quickly slip his hand off of his shoulder.

Suddenly, Antonio shot his head up, snatching Tim's arm roughly. Tim had a moment to realize what was happening before Antonio yanked him towards him. Tim stretched his free hand in front of himself, bracing himself on the back couch before he fell completely. Still, Antonio had him leaning over him, their faces barely touching.

Tim stood there, petrified as he gaped down at Antonio. He wasn't sure what exactly why Antonio would do that, but he knew that it was bad. And it frightened him. It left his bones cold under his skin, his sweat even colder. It was hard not to start hyperventilating, to show how fast his heart was beating inside his chest.

Antonio, meanwhile, chuckled again, reaching up his free hand towards the other's face. He trailed a finger down Tim's cheek, watching intently as it summoned a wave of goosebumps. "You're so scared of me, Tim," he said hushly. "You were never this scared with Romulus. Am I really that much of a monster to you?" Tim didn't answer him.

Antonio threw his head back and laughed, "You can be so reckless at time, you know that? You can't feel, so you probably don't realize how satisfying it is to inflict pain onto some, especially when they've hurt you. It feels so good. And you know something? I'm going to do it again and again to every person who hurts me. I'm gonna-"

Tim slapped him. "Are you even listening to yourself?" He demanded harshly. Antonio blinked, feeling the sting in his cheek clear his head. "Use your logic for once and listen to yourself. I know that that's not how you feel. I know you know that that's nonsense speaking. So get a hold of yourself, would you?"

Antonio looked up at him dumbly. "T-tim?" he shakingly whispered. He felt like he had stepped out of his own body for a moment. Those words- none of them were his. "W-what just happened?"

Tim stepped away from the couch, giving his brother space. "You just went batshit crazy," he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.

Antonio shook his head. "But I'm not crazy-"

"I _know _you're not," he said. His hands patted his pockets, searching for his lighter. "But something happened there. You need help."

"I don't need help!" Antonio snapped fiercely. "I'm sane, alright! I just- I'm just tired!"

"Of course you are." Tim swore when all of his pockets were empty. "And I told you that I don't think you're crazy. We just . . ." He sighed. He was making things up as he went. "We just need a system," he told him. "Next time this-" Tim gestured wildly. "-_thing _comes back, you give me a call first thing, understand?" Antonio nodded. "And we're going to keep quiet about this murder thing again, alright? This is the last time, got it?" Again, he nodded.

Antonio watch Tim march upstairs, retreating to the office. He listened to him swear loudly when he saw the mud on the carpet, demanding that someone cleaned it up soon.

Antonio was silently, staring blankly into open space.

Tim still had his black and Antonio still had his white.

* * *

**MW: **Okay, very late chapter. I know. I'm sorry. I just—this was hell.

I was planning on updating on the first week of July because that was when I was back, but then the strangest thing happened: I couldn't get the words right. So I scrapped everything and rewrote it. And the words still suck, but at this rate I was so afraid that I wouldn't update again until August that I just said "hell with it" and post it. I'm sorry if it's messy, unclearing, or confusing. Just ask if you're confused about something and I'll try my best to explain it.

Also, different AN layout. I felt as though this story needed something different. Hopefully this isn't too much of an inconvenience to y'all.

At this point, any kind of feedback would be helpful. Sorry again for the late update. I'm gonna try to update sooner this time!

**Notes**

"From his spot on the stool at the island in the kitchen" So if you have a counter in the middle of the kitchen, not connected to any other counter, it's called an island, FYI

**Thank you for reading!**


	3. The Two Officers

**Warning: **Strong language.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers

* * *

**-Part 2-**

**The Two Officers**

* * *

Alfred considered himself to be a good person. He put countless hours into making sure that the streets were safe for all the little boys and girls who played street-side baseball. He always did what he could to see the best in people. He dedicated himself to the labor of defending the weak and helpless.

So why did his job have to be so boring?

Alfred continued to doodle on his paper, ignoring the report that was due within the hour. He understood that people don't get murdered every day, but being a traffic cop was far more exciting than simply sitting around and waiting for the next drug deal to go wrong. That, of course, was considering that the Bayside City native was not even part of that department. No, homicide investigators like himself simply had to sit around and wait for people to die _naturally, _to die the _boring _way.

He groaned, taking off his square specs and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Alfred was the youngest officer in the Homicidal Investigative Unit- only a few months from the thirty years mark of living. He, however, looked much younger. His face had retained the youthful appearance of his high school days, the bane of every middle aged cop's envy. Whatever grays his job may have given him over the long and stressful years were luckily hidden in his mat of hay-colored hair. Sheer luck allowed Alfred Jones to not look a day over twenty.

He sighed, leaning back in his swirl desk chair. Chief of Police Natalya Alfroskaya had told him that _awareness _was the city's most successful police officer. The city's youth was becoming more and more aware of the consequences of reckless actions. Divorce was a more fashionable solution than arsenic. The Anon Killer case three years back reminded the public of how terrible crimes were and discouraged them from doing the same. But even if crimes had decreased, the rich kids of Bayside City in their fancy houses continued to insist that marijuana was a "cool" recreational activity and, more than once, Alfred watched a parade of stoned teenagers being marched into the station with their arms bound at their wrists.

Alfred personally thought it was reckless.

Not that he had ever smoked any.

High school football players totally don't spend their off season on the abandoned highway at dark smoking in the back seat of the quarterback's old, beat-up Ford. Whoever thought of that lie?

Alfred twirled his pencil between his fingers. There had to be a way to relieve his boredom. His blue eyes glanced around the workroom. After the passing of Chief of Police Ivan Braginski, the state decided to attempt giving the whole BSC Police Department a more familial atmosphere. "It would be exactly what Ivan would have wanted," one of the state council men had said in the long-winded speech he pretended was a eulogy. "He always had been a family man."

Family man- true if a man dedicated to his job and killed himself from a cholesterol-induced heart attack made him a father. The only family the station ever knew he had was Natalya, but she was a step-sister who was miniscule in Ivan's eyes.

Yet, the statesman's speech was sufficient enough to convince the naive and the whole station was remodeled a little over a year ago. In a few months it had turned from a building with beautiful _private_ offices to an open layout plan- a _floor _concept. Alfred liked it at first. The room was laid out like the fancy sets he always saw on the late night crime shows that he stayed up with his roommate-who-is-also-his-twin to watch. The walls were either painted with lively yellow color or eaten by large, rectangular windows looking out at the city and, if one cared to squint his eyes hard enough, a blue harbor. Desks just long enough for Alfred to stretch his arms across were put into rows, facing the office of their Chief of Police. Without the walls in between, there seemed to be more air to go around. There certainly was more light in the office-'the floor' as most of the officers now called it- and he could easily spy Vash when the man brought in sweets from home.

But now, like everyone else, he was more annoyed than anything. Everyone could see everything single little thing he did. He couldn't sigh without being told by a baker's dozen of people to stop being annoying. Without the privacy of his old office, he couldn't entertain himself when he was bored (like play basketball with old crumpled-up papers and a waste basket). All he could do was scribble on old lined paper and pretend to not watch Eduard blog about the exciting life of computers.

Alfred peered around the room, searching for some entertainment. Eduard was working on a report, so no blogging from him. Vash seemed to be cleaning his pistol for the third time today. Carlos was reading, idly humming to himself as he licked his finger and turned the pages at the corner. Experience told Alfred that Carlos-a large, tanned man with dark eyes and a pony tail of dreadlocks-was not the nicest person when pestered.

Of course, that made him the best person to annoy.

Eagerly, Alfred descended upon his sheet of scrap paper, folding it dexterously. Soon enough, he had a paper airplane, one he declared to be of the highest caliber of paper aerodynamics. He poised himself at his desk, squinting his eyes as he aimed across the room. He promised himself a candy bar from the vending machine if he could get it stuck in Carlos's hair. He threw it.

The paper airplane glided through the air, nearly knocking into Xiao Ming's head before hitting Carlos square in the forehead. Alfred frowned. He missed.

"What the- Alfred!" The blond quickly returned to his work, feigning innocence as Carlos shot him a vicious glare. Carlos crumpled the paper easily, snapping to his feet and marching over to him. "I swear to God, Jones. The moment I get my hands around your little neck, I'll-" He grabbed the collar of Alfred's pollo, pulling the younger up to his feet.

Alfred could smell the tobacco in Carlos's breath, making him want to cough and wheeze. But he couldn't do that- that'll be the same as whimpering in fear under Carlos's thumb. He forced a grin on his face, raising his hands up in defense. He said, "Hey, now. Calm down fat-boy. I didn't do it."

Carlos shook him a bit, flashing his fangs even more. "That's bullshit and we both know it!"

"Calm down, you two," Vash ordered, nonchalantly cleaning the barrel of his pistol. It wasn't the one the bureau distributed to him. The shining grey steel and the artful wooden grip were part of his gun collection. Every Tuesday, after work, he would spend his time at the city's gun range and fire shots. This tradition only started three years ago when it was revealed that his missing cousin, Lili, was one of the Anon Killer's victims. "Honestly, you both act like little kids."

They both shot their heads towards him, chorusing a loud "excuse me?" Carlos dropped Alfred in order to place point a sharp finger at him, saying, "_He's_ the one acting immature here! _He _shouldn't have been throwing paper airplanes!"

Alfred muttered, "Yeah and _you _shouldn't have overreacted."

Carlos was at his throat again. "You want to say that to my face, bastard?"

"What? So you're fat _and _deaf too?"

"Why I ought too-"

A sharp whistle pierced through the air. Carlos and Alfred both snapped to attention as everyone on the floor turned their heads to a familiar head of pale blond hair. A woman stood at the doorway to the Chief of Police office, her pretty face contorted by the scowl she sent the two men. "Machado, Jones- my office, now," she ordered, promptly turning back into through the doorway of the glass wall.

All eyes turned to Alfred and Carlos, some with victory and others with pity. Eduard sang a sigh, cracking his fingers as he turned back to his computer. He said, "Better hurry up you two. Waiting will only make her angrier."

Alfred sighed. In his opinion, Natalya was seventy-five percent a bitch. Ever since she took over her late step-brother's position as Chief of Police, she had been doing nothing but giving Alfred grief. At least when she was just a common officer like him (in a different bureau, naturally) she did not insist on having him call her Alfroskaya. Now even looking at her oddly would cause her to bite off his head.

When Alfred did not immediately move, Carlos roughly grabbed his arm and dragged him to the office. It was made of four walls- two of them glass and two of them of plaster. One of the glass ones gave Natalya a clear view of the floor, a perch for her hawk eyes. Or at least it would be if she did not have white, aluminum blinds drawn tightly across it. The other glass wall was a window that looked over the parking lot and busy black asphalt road. When the renovation was first made, Natalya said that someone could have easily snipped her at her desk (a joke, perhaps?), but her complaint was greeted by deaf ears. The other two walls were decorated by certificates and awards from around twenty years of police service. Every time Alfred entered the office he could not help but to glance towards the framed papers decked with eloquent black signatures. Natalya may have been most qualified to uphold her brother's job, but she was by no means the least controversial. Surely she only kept those blasted things on the wall to remind everyone that although she was young for the position, she knew what she was doing.

"Sit down, Jones." Alfred returned to reality, realizing that Natalya was standing behind her desk, looking more firm and daunting in her gray suit than usual, with a glare on her pallid face. She stretched her hand towards a seat in front of her desk, the one right to where Carlos was calmly sitting.

Alfred swallowed. He grinned, taking his seat. "Will do, Natalya-"

"Jones!_"_

He sighed, further daring to cross his legs and slouch. "Sorry, but your name is pretty," he said. "You used to let me call you that-"

Natalya glared at him, lightly playing with one of her sharpened pencils. "That was then," she snapped. "I'm your senior now and it's inappropriate."

"You're not _that _much older than me."

"I'm ten years older than you."

"Nine and a half, actually." He could not help but to raise his chin smugly. "I'm especially proud of that half year."

Carlos sighed, exasperated, as he rolled his eyes. He asked, "Alfred, can you try for once in your life to not be an idiot and just listen-"

"I'm not dumb!"

Natalya ran her fingers through her hair testily. She gave a final groan before slamming her hands on her desk, causing the papers to fly and her lamp to rattle. "If both of you don't shut up right this instant I will take away your badges and arrest you both for killing my time!"

Alfred opened his mouth, ready to give another sly reply, when he saw her face. Her skin was flaring red with anger. Natalya's hand- those tenuous fingers more suited for a pianist than a cop -was on the gun strapped to her hip. Alfred closed his mouth and straightened in his chair. "Sorry, ma'am."

She let the silence linger in the air for a moment longer, double checking his sincerity. Alfred could feel her eyes on him as he nervously played with his fingers, peeling away his nails. Natalya released a long breath. "Thank you," she said, though calmer than before, more professional. "Though this is exactly why you're both in here right now." She lowered herself into her chair, quickly organizing the disorderly sheets of papers and pencils. "We're the only police department in the entirety of Bayside. We have to set an example to the populous, but we really can't do that if I have two officers who not only refuse to listen to my orders, but also refuse to get along with each other."

Carlos scowled. "Jones was the one not listening, not me."

"You weren't necessarily giving it your all to help me calm him now, weren't you?"

Carlos looked ready to object again, but smartly decided to close his mouth and rest his case. Still, Alfred could not help but to give him a triumphant look. He rightly received a smack behind the head. "Ow, hey!"

She slammed her hands on the desk again. "What the hell did I just say?" She yelled. The two men snapped their backs straight. Natalya glared at them again, jumping to her feet to stalk around the room. "I am sick and tired of you two not listening to orders," she said, passing by certificates and portraits. "The entire reputation of the department is put at stake every time one of you idiots decides to choke each other." She stopped by her window. She stared out it for a moment before suddenly losing all her anger. She sighed. "Can't you both just get along?"

_Knock! Knock!_

The door opened and a round-faced man with short blond hair strode into the room. "Natalya, I have something to tell you quick," he announced, his hands searching the dark corners of his leather messenger bag. "I think that I might have found . . ." He looked up and trailed off. Hazel eyes glided over the two officers, his face flushing with embarrassment. "Oh . . . I'm sorry." He pulled his hands out of his bag and tugged on the ends of his knitted sweater. "I didn't realize that you were busy."

Alfred would have suspected Natalya to be less than pleased. Maybe she would jerk around and yell at this man for interrupting their scolding. But instead, she seemingly dropped her previous train of thought and picked up another. "No, it's fine, Tino," she said, returning back to her desk. A congenial smile painted her face. "Anything for a friend."

Alfred glanced between them. "Wait, so how do you two know each other?" he asked. His boss sent him a glare, a silent snap to stay quiet.

Tino grinned brightly, stretching out a hand. "I'm Tino Vainamoinen. Natalya and I go way back." Alfred shook it warmly. Tino's hand was soft.

"He's the columnist for the BSC newspaper," Natalya added reluctantly, taking a seat. "He was the one who covered the Anon Killings three years ago." She sighed at Alfred's pleading face. "_And _he and I went to college together."

Carlos smiled, standing and offering him a hand of his own. "Well it's a pleasure to meet you then. I'm Carlos Machado."

Tino shook it warmly. "Pleasure to meet you as well, Carlos. I'm sure that you'll be very interested in what I have to say today, though . . ." He looked at Natalya. "Is it alright if they stay in here?"

She did not think about it. "I presume it's of a very sensitive matter then?"

His warmth turned into anxiety. Tino shifted on his feet nervously, playing with the ends of his brown sweater. "It's about the Anon Killings actually," he said.

The room was quiet.

The three policemen exchanged uncertain looks, none sure who should be the one to approach the subject. Alfred pulled at the collar of his mint green polo. Sweat seemed to be dripping down his neck like sticky tree sap. "What exactly about them?" He asked. "Roderich Edelstein is locked up in the state jail."

Tino reached into his bag again. "Well I think that there might be a copycat," he said, all business.

Natalya slowly rose from her seat. She did her best not to appear taken back, but her blue eyes were wider than usual. She gave her friend a long, steady glower. "What do you mean by 'copycat?'" she asked.

Tino finally pulled out a pale yellow manila folder. "Everyone knows that the Anon Killer announced his victims to the public by anonymously paying for their obituary in the newspaper, hence his name." He opened the folder and handed it to Natalya, pointing to the top sheet. He said, "Yesterday, I overheard someone saying that there was an anonymous caller asking about paying for an obituary for tomorrow's newspaper. Even though we banned allowing unidentified people pay for these things post-Edelestein I convinced them just to let it through just to see who the caller was paying for. And if you turn the page, you'll see why I'm concerned."

Natalya did so, letting out a gasp a moment later. "Berwald?" Tino nodded somberly.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, but who's Berwald?"

"My ex-husband," Tino instantly replied, monotone.

"Husband? Dude, you're gay?"

Carlos reached over and smacked him behind the head. "Don't be rude, Jones," he scolded. He turned back to Tino and grinned, showing him his set of yellowed teeth. "Don't mind the idiot," he said. "He speaks and lacks the brain to think about it, you know?"

Tino smiled humoredly. "Don't worry- I get that a lot." He looked at Alfred. "And I guess you can say that I'm gay, but Berwald and I were married a long time ago and it was only for little over a year before I broke it off."

The youngest raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Tino gritted his teeth, looking down to the side. His small hands were tightened into fists. "He insisted on calling me his wife," he practically growled. "No matter how many times I told him, he always insisted. . ."

Natalya placed the report onto her desk and turned to her computer. Her slender digits moved gracefully across the keyboard, filling the air with the tune of clicking. The lights of the screen were reflected on her eyes. "So according to the obituary, he was killed on April twenty-third. It's been nearly a week so _someone _must have reported something- I got it." She beckoned for Tino to join her around the desk, pointing to a certain line of text. Alfred started to stand to join her, but a hard look from Carlos made him sit again. "About eight days ago, someone reported an abandoned car in a middle class neighborhood across town. The license plate identified it as Berwald's, but there's been no missing persons report filed for him yet."

Tino frowned, giving her a desperate look. "Well he's not answering his cell," he practically pleaded. "And I checked his house and no one was home."

"Maybe he's just at work right now," Alfred suggested hopefully.

"Berwald works at home."

Carlos tried to remedy the situation. "Maybe he's still bitter about the divorce," he offered. "I mean, he could be avoiding you."

Tino shook his head. "No, Berwald and I are still friends and we talk regularly. Plus, he's seeing someone else."

Natalya sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Look, I'm sorry Tino but without any more evidence I can't make much of a murder case out of this. I can help you file a missing persons report, but besides that-"

There was a knock at the door.

Before Natalya could even call an invitation the glass door opened, the blinds crashing like a thunderclap, and Vash came inside. His green eyes switched between his boss and coworkers for a moment before addressing the glare she sent him. "Ma'am, there's something wrong," he said.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "I can guess that much, Zwingli- _what _exactly is wrong, though?"

Tino grimaced. "You should be a little nicer to him," he muttered softly. His comment went unheard.

Vash held up a manila folder of his own. "We just got a call from the port," he told her. "They found a body in the bay."

"A body?" Alfred jumped to his feet, swiftly snatching the folder from him. His face radiated with joy as he excitedly opened the folder and read the transcript for the 911 call. "You're kidding! Something fun is actually happening?"

"Jones!"

Alfred grinned sheepishly. Carlos smacked his forehead, grumbling.

Vash rolled his eyes. He roughly snatched the folder back from Alfred and handed it to their boss. "A few officers are already on scene," he said. "But first look says that it's murder."

Alfred pointed a finger into the air. "And my first look says that our victim is Berwald."

Before Natalya could narrow her eyes into dark slits again, Tino turned red in the face. "Who would ever want to murder Berwald?" he demanded, his temper dissolving with every word.

"You were the one who first suggested it."

"Shut-up, you two." Natalya closed the folder and gave Vash a strained smile. "We'll send them someone shortly. Thank you for telling me." He took his cue to leave, sending his blond coworker one last annoyed glance before turning on his heels and stalking away. When the door closed firmly shut behind him, she turned on her two officers. "Alright Jones- I have a plan and I think you and Machado are going to like it. You two are going to be assigned to this case as partners- closed your mouth, Jones, I'm not finished. You're going to learn how to operate as a team and trust one another and relieve everyone's headaches when you two finally get along. Are we clear?"

Carlos raised his hand. "With all due respect, I think this is a bad idea, ma'am."

Alfred nodded firmly, saying, "For once, I agree with you, fat-boy." Carlos coughed loudly into his fist. Alfred was not fazed. "Look, I understand where you're coming from but he and I really just don't mix. I'm like the hero of a mystery novel and Machado there is . . . well, not."

"Heroes can put aside their differences in order to work together," Natalya said, a grimace strained upon her mouth. She placed the folder back onto her desk and slowly rose to her feet, signaling the men to copy her. "This is the last I want to hear of this, understand? Now get to work."

He frowned and gave Carlos a sideways glance. Compared to his blue ones, Carlos's eyes were too dark and too flat. They lacked depth- one could easily spy the back of his head in them. Alfred closed his eyes and sighed. "Understand, ma'am." He resigned.

Carlos stared at his boss dead into her eyes. He nodded. "Understood."

She looked pleased, clapping her hands as she bruised her hands with the stack of papers on her desk. "Excellent. Now that _that's _over-"

"Hey wait a second." Tino took a step forward, lifting his hand up into the air. The room looked at him as the rays of sunlight filtered through the window and landed across his face- from head to neck. "I want to come with you two," he said.

Carlos scoffed. "No way. That's against regulations," he said.

Alfred nodded. "Yeah and besides, if that murdered guy really is Berwald then you'll be the prime suspect since he was your ex-husband and that means motive."

He knitted his brows. "How?"

"If the marriage didn't end in a way that you liked, then you have a motive for murder."

Tino sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he stepped away from the desk and leaned against the wall. His head barely touched the bottom on one of Natalya's certificates. "I'm a journalist. I'm either at the office or on scene. At the office I have security cameras to verify my presence and on scene work involves interviewing, giving me reliable witnesses, on record, who can verify where I am." He sent Alfred an annoyed look. "And why would I want to kill Berwald?" he asked. "He and I have a friendly relationship, right Natalya?"

She frowned. "You two are like brothers." Sighing, the blond leaned back in her chair, playing with a mechanical pencil between her fingers. "But Tino, we can't have you walking around and reporting this as anything more than it really is. We still have no idea whose body that is."

"I'm not going to do any reporting while I'm with them." He raised his hand and dragged his finger across his chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Again, she was quiet, staring him down with her blue eyes. Alfred liked her eyes. They were blue like his, but of a darker shade. The color was sharp, making her eyes knives that sliced through the confidence of every man around. Yet, there were times when that deep, deep blue was gentle. That was the side Alfred liked the most: when the knives were back in their sheaths. Then, she looked younger, more alive.

Natalya stared out the window for a moment, staring at the street below her, before sighing. "Fine. I'll make you sign a contract for it later, but you can go with them for now. Just-" She looked back at him. "-don't report or interfere."

Tino grinned largely, spewing gratitudes as quickly as he could. He was ignored as Natalya looked back at her officers. "Take care of him. You are dismissed."

Alfred and Carlos glared at each other before turning and leaving the room, Tino trailing the back of their heels. "This is going to be great," he said politely, unaware of the rising tension gathering in the floor. The other officers could not help but to stare at the steaming partners, unsure of whether to laugh or complain but the new predicament. "I just knew that there was going to be an Anon copycat eventually- that guy was just too great of a serial killer to not have a following."

"Don't jump to conclusions," Carlos growled, splitting from the group to gather his things from his desk. Alfred followed suit, ignoring the stares of his coworkers as he opened his desk drawer and searched for his gun. "For all we know, that body is just a drowning victim that everyone forgot about."

Tino looked down sheepishly, his cheeks turning red from embarrassment. He chuckled nervously. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he said. "I guess I'm just getting a bit too excited."

"You think?"

Alfred laughed, triumphantly pulling out his hand gun. "You're such a party pooper, Machado," he said, strapping his it to his side. He picked his leather jacket off of his swivel chair and pulled his arms through. "We have a killer on the loose. This is _exciting, _right?" He turned to the rest of the floor. "Isn't this great guys?" He asked loudly, his face bright and eyes shining. The other officers exchanged uncomfortable glances. "We have a _murder_!" An idea clearly dawned upon his face. Alfred suddenly pulled out his phone. "I gotta tell Matthew about this."

"Put the phone away, Jones," Carlos ordered.

Alfred glanced up from the phone's screen to stick out a tongue. "Make me."

He sighed, crossing his arms squarely over his chest. "I'm your senior officer, so you have to do what I say."

"Since when did I listen to the authorities?"

"It's against regulations to tell civilians-even brothers-details about ongoing investigations. Now put the phone away or so help me God."

Alfred glared up at him and, very slowly, stuck his phone back into his pocket. "Fine," he spat. "Be that way, but I'm driving."

Carlos crossed his arms. "No, I am."

"I think I can drive," Tino piped giddily. "I mean, don't know if I can even drive a police car legally, but-"

The two men shot him a glare. "Shut-up!" they chorused. They immediately turned their glares to each other, grinding their teeth and growling like German Shepherds. Tino looked hesitantly between them.

Alfred stuck out his tongue before running out of the room. "First one to the car drives, fat-boy!" Alfred yelled, laughing like a maniac and whooping like a cowboy. Carlos swore before grabbing his coat and chasing after him.

Tino was the last one out.

* * *

**MW: **This went onto hiatus and I didn't even realize it. I'm sorry about that. What happened was that I put this aside so that I could finish FB. I did set a certain time aside for me to write it every week, but the time was inconvenient and I ended up forgetting about it. But have no more fear, for I now have a much better schedule for writing and I plan on writing in this much more often (But I'm sick right now so we'll have to see how that'll turn out).

I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed so far. Even if I have been terrible at writing in this consistently, I have still looked at every single review and have treasured each greatly.

So about this chapter. It's very short, but I just needed it introduce the other half of the main cast. Next chapter, the plot will start moving along again. And it'll start to get more twisted again, just a little heads up.

**No Notes**

**Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoyed!**


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